I like blockchain, I like cooking food and slow roasting a prime

"I like blockchain, I like cooking food and slow roasting a prime rib for Thanksgiving, and whatever else that you might find awkward or weird or whatever, then I'm me." In this declaration, Spencer Dinwiddie proclaims the timeless anthem of authenticity. He tells us that a man is not made noble by conforming to the expectations of others, but by embracing his own truth, however unusual it may seem. He weaves together the modern fascination with blockchain, the ancient art of cooking, and the sacred ritual of Thanksgiving, showing that identity is not a simple thread but a tapestry of many colors.

The origin of such wisdom lies in humanity’s eternal struggle between conformity and individuality. From the dawn of civilizations, societies have placed boundaries on what is deemed “normal.” Yet those who have walked boldly in their own uniqueness have often become the visionaries, the pioneers, the teachers of future generations. Dinwiddie’s words echo this lineage, teaching us that to stand firm in one’s peculiar loves—be they in the realm of technology, of tradition, or of personal joy—is to claim sovereignty over the self.

History provides luminous examples. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, who was scorned for his unusual habits, his endless sketches, and his curious explorations that blended art, science, and invention. Many found his pursuits awkward, yet in those very oddities lay the genius that reshaped the world. Like Dinwiddie with his blockchain and his prime rib, Leonardo did not discard his varied passions but embraced them all, declaring by his very life that true greatness comes not from imitation, but from authenticity.

Dinwiddie’s mention of slow roasting a prime rib for Thanksgiving carries an ancient undertone: the act of preparing food as an expression of love, patience, and belonging. Cooking slowly is a metaphor for living deeply—not rushing, not seeking shortcuts, but savoring the process. And to bring this offering to the Thanksgiving table is to unite the modern self with timeless tradition. He shows us that individuality does not mean separation from others; it means bringing one’s unique gifts to the circle of community.

What others may find awkward or weird, he embraces as his strength. This is a teaching of resilience, for often the world rejects what it does not understand. Yet the wise learn that rejection is not a curse, but a refining fire. Just as gold is purified by flame, so too is character purified by the refusal to abandon what is true within. Dinwiddie’s courage to say, “then I’m me,” is a call to every soul to reject the chains of judgment and to stand unshaken in their uniqueness.

The lesson is clear: you must not shape yourself to fit the comfort of others, for that is the path of shadows and emptiness. Instead, shape your life in harmony with your truth, even if it confuses, unsettles, or bewilders those around you. Remember that the world’s greatest contributions have come not from those who sought acceptance, but from those who dared to be different.

And the practical action is this: honor your peculiar passions. Whether in technology, in art, in cooking, or in the simplest joys of your heart, do not hide them for fear of ridicule. Share them at the table of life as freely as you would share food at Thanksgiving. Teach children that their strangeness is not their weakness but their treasure. For in this way, you will not only live as yourself, but you will leave behind a legacy of courage, authenticity, and truth for those yet to come.

Thus, Dinwiddie’s words stand as a torch for the generations: be who you are, love what you love, and bring it boldly to the feast of life. For authenticity is the greatest gift, and it is the fire that makes every soul shine.